Nitish crouched over the carcass of the strange three-legged bird he had killed, his mind already working on how to turn this grim victory into an advantage. The sharp claws of the creature glinted faintly in the eerie light of the Abyss, and Nitish reached out to inspect them. They were curved and deadly, like natural daggers, the tips coated in a faint residue of venom that could kill or paralyze on contact. He shivered, realizing how close he had come to death in his first encounter here.
With steady hands, Nitish began prying the claws from the bird's feet. It was gruesome work, and the sickly crunch of bone and sinew made his stomach churn, but he had no choice. Each claw came loose after some effort, and he set them aside carefully, ensuring he didn't touch the tips. His thoughts wandered to his father, Eryndor, and the lessons he had taught him during their rare moments together.
"Strength isn't just in raw power, Nitish. Sometimes, the one who strikes silently is the one who survives," his father had said.
Nitish remembered watching in awe as his father's master, a man with no chakras, dismantled him in a sparring session. The elder man had moved like a shadow, striking from impossible angles and leaving Eryndor gasping for breath despite his overwhelming strength. Nitish had begged to learn those techniques, and though his father had been reluctant, he eventually taught him the basics of stealth and assassination. Now, in the cold depths of the Abyss, those lessons might be the only thing keeping Nitish alive.
He found a sturdy piece of wood among the twisted debris scattered across the rocky ground. It was rough and uneven, but it would serve as the handle for the makeshift dagger he was crafting. Using one of the claws, he began whittling away at the wood, shaping it into a grip that fit comfortably in his hand. His movements were precise, each stroke of the claw deliberate and focused. When the handle was complete, he lashed the claw to it using strips of sinew he cut from the bird's body. The result wasn't pretty, but it was functional—a deadly weapon made from necessity.
Next, he turned his attention to the bird's feathers and skin. The creature's hide was tough and leathery, resistant to the sharp edges of the claw he was using to cut it. Nitish worked methodically, stripping away the feathers and using the cleanest pieces to fashion a crude bag. He needed a way to carry the bones and other useful materials he had scavenged. The bag was far from perfect, but it would hold together for now.
The bird's bones were another treasure trove. Nitish cleaned them carefully using large leaves he found nearby. He avoided the small stream of water he had discovered earlier; he couldn't risk contaminating it or drawing attention to himself by staying in one place for too long. The Abyss was teeming with unknown dangers, and he had no intention of becoming another victim.
Once the bones were cleaned, he examined them closely. Some were long and sturdy, ideal for crafting spear tips or needles. Others were smaller and more brittle, but they could still serve as tools for carving or fastening. Nitish placed them carefully into his feather bag, slinging it over his shoulder before rising to his feet. The weight was light, but it gave him a sense of security. He wasn't entirely unarmed now.
The eerie silence of the Abyss pressed against him as he moved cautiously through the twisted landscape. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, every faint rustle a potential predator. Nitish's senses were on high alert, his training taking over. He moved with the precision of a predator, each step carefully placed to avoid noise. His father's words echoed in his mind.
"Perception is your greatest weapon. See what others cannot. Hear what they ignore. And strike before they even know you're there."
He came across his first prey when he spotted movement in the distance—a small, lizard-like creature scuttling across the rocks. Its body shimmered faintly, and Nitish noticed it had scales that seemed as tough as the bird's hide. It wasn't large, but it could still be dangerous if it was venomous or aggressive. Nitish crouched low, blending into the shadows.
The techniques his father had taught him began to flow instinctively. Nitish slowed his breathing, making himself as still as the rocks around him. He shifted his weight carefully, avoiding even the smallest sounds. His eyes locked onto the lizard, observing its movements, its patterns. It was fast but predictable, pausing occasionally to sniff the air. Nitish took this as his opening.
He moved forward in a series of slow, deliberate steps, his feet barely grazing the ground. When he was close enough, he gripped his makeshift dagger tightly and launched himself forward. The lizard sensed him too late, turning its head just as Nitish's blade drove into its side. The creature thrashed violently, but Nitish held firm, pinning it down until it went limp.
He exhaled slowly, his heart pounding as he stared at his kill. The lizard's shimmering scales could be useful, and its meat might be edible. Nitish worked quickly, stripping the creature of its hide and carefully extracting the meat. He placed the useful parts into his feather bag, his mind already calculating his next move.
As Nitish continued deeper into the Abyss, the environment grew more hostile. The rocky terrain became more jagged, the air heavier with the acrid stench of decay. He moved with the same deliberate caution, his makeshift dagger clutched tightly in his hand. The shadows around him seemed to shift, and he knew he wasn't alone.
A faint sound reached his ears—the soft rustle of wings. Nitish froze, his heart pounding. The bird-like creatures from earlier were close. He crouched low, hiding behind a jagged outcropping as he scanned the area. Three of them stood on a nearby ledge, their glowing green eyes scanning the darkness. Their claws glinted with venom, and Nitish knew he couldn't take them head-on.
He steadied his breathing, slipping deeper into the shadows. His training took over, and he became a ghost, moving silently along the rocky ground. The birds didn't notice him as he slipped past, his movements perfectly synchronized with the faint sounds of the Abyss.
When he was a safe distance away, Nitish allowed himself a moment of relief. His survival in the Abyss would depend on more than just strength; it would require cunning, patience, and the willingness to adapt. Every step forward was a victory, a testament to his determination to live.
As he continued, Nitish couldn't help but reflect on how far he had come. The boy who had once been dismissed as weak, who had been cast out by the very people he tried to help, was now navigating one of the most dangerous places in existence. His father's lessons, his own ingenuity, and his unrelenting drive had brought him this far. And he wasn't done yet.
With his makeshift weapons in hand and the fire of vengeance burning in his heart, Nitish pressed on, ready to face whatever horrors the Abyss had in store for him. This place might have been designed to break him, but he would not be broken. Not yet. Not ever.